Dean Gets a Dog
by pandorathexplora
Summary: This is a one shot that asks, What if Dean got a dog? How would Sam react? Inspired by an SN thread that asked for funny stories and that show "The Dog Whisperer." God love Sam, Dean, and Cesar Milan. Please read and review!


"You can't be serious," Sam said as he brought two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. He could already feel a headache coming on.

"You bet your balls, I'm serious!" Dean exclaimed proudly, showcasing the brand new member to their family at the foot of the motel room bed, its tail wagging profusely. "And the best part is -- chicks dig 'em," Dean continued.

Sam stared, dumbfounded, at the border collie that drooled in front of him. His shiny black coat would have been something to look at if it weren't so matted and, Sam assumed, infested with fleas. As the brothers continued to watch him, the mangy animal rolled over onto its back and began to scratch itself with the carpet, resulting in a horizontal dance of ridiculous proportions, kicking and pawing at the air.

"No," Sam finally said. "No chance! Where the hell would we keep it, Dean? It's not like we're a white-picket fence family. Hell, we don't even have a home!"

"Now, hold on, Sammy!" Dean interrupted, his voice getting serious. "Do not forget that this is the same dog that saved you from that rabid cat monster yesterday!"

Briefly, both boys stopped arguing to cock the heads at the absurdity of that last statement.

Dean shook it off. "But anyway, this dog is a lifesaver and to deny it a place to stay with us would be cruel."

Sam's face seemed be giving in so Dean went with it.

"Dammit, Sam. It would be downright inhuman."

"I think you mean inhumane," Sam corrected him.

"Right, whatever, I don't even know anymore with us, but anyway, we got to keep it, Sammy. He's got no other place to go."

Sam and Dean both looked in the direction of the now upright dog. Its focus now changed from the itch on its back to an invisible insect on the carpet. Entranced in the swift movements of the bug, pouncing from left to right on the floor, just a paw behind the little bug, the dog suddenly stopped. With its tail literally between its legs, the black dog with the white freckled nose approached Sam and began to lick his hand.

"Awww, Sam, you see that? He likes you!" Dean nudged his brother. "How can you say no to that?"

With a deep breath and a mind that deeply regretted his next words, Sam finally agreed. "Fine, we can keep it, but he sleeps with you."

"No take backs?" Dean pointed at Sam, looking out of the side of his eyes.

"No take backs."

At that, Dean couldn't resist the urge to pump his fist in the air, nearly knocking over one of the motel vases. He quickly recovered it, acknowledging that now that they had a dog, he would have to be extra careful not to break too many things. He knew he could keep the collie, but he couldn't leave any signs that they had one. After all, what motel would house them with a pet around? This would have to be a covert operation.

Lost in his thought, Dean noticed out of the corner of his eye that the border collie was now sniffing suspiciously around Sam's shoe.

"Ohhh shi---" Dean began, but it was too late. The dog had already done the deed.

Pissed that he was now marked territory, Sam shot up, "Oh! You stupid piece of –"

Dean interrupted, "You said no take backs!"

Sam shot him a glare that could kill, sending shivers down Dean's spine. Sam snatched a towel from inside the bathroom and began to mop up the dog's "gift" to his shoe.

"Yeah, I know, Dean," Sam replied, "but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

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The weeks that followed met the boys with more creatures from the dark, ghosts from the grave, and demons from an infinite dark. However, the dog stuck by Dean's side the whole way and even managed to help out in a situation or two.

Still, the biggest problem was not the multitude of supernatural enemies that awaited them outside their room. These days, a more terrifying doom surrounded the growing tension between the border collie and Sam.

"I dub you, Hetfield!" Dean told his new loyal companion one night, throwing him a piece of beef jerky, which bounced right into his mouth. "Nice catch!" Dean said proudly. "Hey Sam, check out this new trick I taught the dog. You wanna see?" Dean proclaimed to his brother in the bathroom. The only response was a feral groan from within. He took that as a yes.

As Dean was about to throw Hetfield another piece of beef, his brother stepped out of the bathroom, a toothbrush in his mouth and foam all around. Upon seeing this, the dog dropped his focus from the beef and suddenly locked eyes with Sam.

With a somewhat primordial fierceness, Hetfield immediately started to growl deeply from what seemed to be his inner wolf.

"Woah, boy, where is that coming from?" Dean asked, as he looked confoundedly at his pet. He turned around to see his brother, who immediately stopped brushing his teeth to raise his hands with an equally puzzled expression of, _What did I do?_

The dog only continued to growl, his head hanging low, body crouched down in a position ready to pounce. Each hair stood up on his neck and body and Dean could only hold up his hand, ready to control this changed animal.

However, as quickly as it had begun, the dog's demeanor shifted drastically back to one of obedience and playfulness. He shot up and ran into Dean's lap, licking his master's cheek excitedly and ignoring his still confused rival with the toothbrush in the corner.

With his master there, Hetfield was as happy as the next dog. Dean shrugged it off, but deep down knew that something was up with his brother and his pet.

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The months played out and, still, no matter what Dean did, it seemed that Sam could not lighten up around his dog. For even though they were brothers, a dog could only have one true master and that, in this situation, was obviously Dean. Sam, to the collie, was only a pack member, one he could play with and acknowledge, but not one to show submission or even respect. Occasionally, the dog would growl at Sam, but never matching the ferocious level that was the first night with the beef jerky.

Yet, every now and then, a shoe would end up being pooped in. A shirt would find itself mysteriously tattered. A bed linen would seem to grow dog hair all around it. And all of these things just so happened to belong to Sam.

And every time this happened, Sam would bite his lip and suck it up because, according to "Bro Code," the "bro" party involved could not go back on an explicitly stated "No take-backs." Sam was stuck.

Until one day, the last straw was pulled.

It was an average day in South Bend, Indiana, with a blistering cold and blizzard-like snow that came down like manna from Heaven. And it was April. Dean was coming back to the motel with a bucket of chicken, cursing the demonic gods for having to send yet another one of its evil lowlifes to the Midwest.

"Noooo, you can't go to freakin' Cancun or Florida. You have to send them HERE!" Dean protested to himself, attempting to balance the bucket o' heart attack and his keys in his right hand while the left hand knocked on the door.

"Sammy? Could you give me hand here?" Dean shouted through the door, trying to fight off the cold through sheer power of will. The snow took on an apparent mischievous life of its own, somehow finding a way to burrow itself through his four layers of clothing and to his skin. With a spontaneous shiver, his hand twitched and Dean dropped his keys.

"You freakin' sh**ing me! Come on!" he shouted as he bent down to grab his keys, although his multitude of coats prevented much bending.

"Sammy!"

What was taking his brother so long? He finally found the keys, the keyhole, and opened the door to what he hoped would be the most welcoming warmth in the world. Instead, Dean was met with a horrifying sight.

Sam had his hand outstretched and Hetfield was being pinned against the wall.

"Sam! What the f*** are you doing!" Dean cried out in sheer terror and concern.

"This dog is evil, Dean! I have to exorcize it! It won't take a minute!" Sam replied to the brother behind him, not taking his focus off of the dog. The border collie hung suspended against the salmon pink walls next to the bathroom doorway. Its tail, never one to give up, still managed to wag as it saw its master enter the door.

Taking a gentler tone, Dean chose his next words carefully. "Ok, Sammy. I see what you're doing and this _ridiculous_ cold is getting to me, too. But this is not the way."

"It's the only way, Dean!" Sam retorted in a voice as solemn as his expression. "The clothes, the shoes, and the bed sheets I can take, but Hetfield just did _that_," Sam yelled while he motioned his head to the desk in the corner.

Dean didn't want to, but he brought his focus to Sam's now destroyed laptop on the motel desk. The screen had large teeth marks all around the edges of it while the keyboard threw up sparks that some liquid, he assumed, had sent the circuits into overdrive.

"He needs to be stopped," Sam continued, his eyes searing into the delicate innards of the dog, searching for the usual demonic presence that had normally been so easy to detect. Usually, this process was fairly easy, but this time, Sam could feel very little, to say the least, within his furry enemy. Meanwhile, Hetfield's big brown eyes scoured the room for his master and he barked, playfully, as if floating against a wall was an everyday occurrence.

His puppy eyes followed his master who had now decided to play the game, too! But his master was sneaky. His master didn't want the other pack member to know he was behind him. No, his master had something in his hand? Toy? Yes, it was a new toy! Hetfield couldn't wait to eat it.

At that moment, Dean lifted the extra-large sized rawhide bone above Sam's head, muttering a brief "Sorry, Sammy!" before bringing it down with tremendous force.

To Sam's fading consciousness, Dean took a deep breath in and said over his brother, "It was for your own good."

The next hour, Sam was coming to full consciousness again, and Dean gave him a cold pack to nurse his aching head. "What else was I going to do? You'd gone batsh** crazy, Sam."

Sam just laughed, out of relief and nervousness at the scene that had just unfolded. "Yeah, sorry, you were right. This many days in the cold was getting to me, and I guess I took it out on your dog. But the thing ate my laptop! What would you do if I got a cat that ripped up your beloved Impala's seats?"

"Hey, don't even _joke_ about that, Sammy," Dean replied, throwing pieces of chicken scraps in his collie's direction.

The brothers sat there eating their chicken in silence, glad that the tension had finally come to a head among the new family of three. Sam had essentially let out what had been building up for months now, which was probably what Hetfield had been feeling all along. Granted, he still felt uneasy as to why the subject of his demonic side hadn't arisen, but he decided that conversation could be saved for another night.

Right now, all that mattered was that the heater was working, the dog was calm, and the brothers, at least for the moment, were at peace.

"Pshhh," Dean said, later that night as they were falling asleep in their beds. "Cat rip up my Impala. Whatever. Cat's are stupid."

At that, Sam turned over, smiled and couldn't resist. He let out a small "Ahhhh!" that sounded like a forced scream, making sure Dean could clearly hear him and remember the locker incident.

"Shut up, Sam. I wasn't scared of that freakin' cat."

After this day and all that Dean's dog had put him through, that was all Sam needed to hear.


End file.
